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Subject: At the Still Point (new story by Rajah Dodger pending final proofing)
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At The Still Point
by Rajah Dodger {rdodger@hotmail.com} (c) 2023
This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Non-Commercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States License (by-nc-sa). In jurisdictions where the Creative Commons license is not recognized, United States copyright and Berne Convention provisions apply; all rights reserved to Rajah Dodger except that electronic not-for-profit reproduction rights are explicitly granted with the stipulation that this authorship and permission note must remain attached.
Living alone was too stressful. I was crawling out of my skin, the bars were closed, and I'd already burned my bridges with my last two girlfriends. I'd told myself six months ago I wouldn't go back to the 'hobby', but here I was browsing the stories and personal ads on the internet. I had to do something.
I found a note on one website, titled "Realign your energies the Eastern way", from a woman who described herself as an Oriental bodywork professional. I sent off an inquiry, and she offered a same-night opening. It was kind of pricey, but I'd been out of the loop for a while so maybe that was normal for a new client. I had to scan and email my driver's license, although masking out my name was fine with her.
She also wanted a negative COVID test. Who has one of those handy? Well, I did because of the careless hygienist at my dentist's office. Her blouse was loose, which I had enjoyed, but her mask turned out to be loose also. Not so good, when they notified me of my likely exposure. At least I didn't have to scan and email the COVID test; I could bring it with me to my session.
Her apartment turned out to be in a megacomplex not far from the baseball stadium, with visitor parking ten minutes away. By the time I found the right building and the right door, I hoped I had some energy left for her to "realign".
Qui Dao was a young Vietnamese woman wearing a sheer pool coverup over a yellow bikini. I put my open envelope on the side table, and she took in the visible twenties with a quick glance before turning deep green eyes on me. "So why are you here, big boy?" I mumbled something about my energies needing realignment, but she cut me off with a deeper look that pinned me in place. "It's your money and you can waste it any way you like. Or you can answer my question. What aches inside you so badly that you came out here? What do you NEED?"
She grabbed and squeezed my hand hard, and the intensity of her question cut deeply into me, opening a fault line I didn't know was there. My mouth opened and words poured out. "I need to feel connected to a human being; I need skin contact; I want to come from something other than my own fingers!"
To my own ears my sudden babbling sounded harsh, desperate and angry. But the young woman took no offense, and smiled instead, taking my hand and leading me from the entryway into a more private room. "See, don't you feel less stressed letting all of that come out into the open? Now, get undressed like a good boy, and we'll see what we can do together."
I looked around - there wasn't a massage table in sight. While I took my clothes off, I counted a chest of drawers along one wall, shelving next to that with stacks of folded blankets and towels, and a collection of what looked like gymnastic tumbling mats. On the right was a small college-sized refrigerator and a line of low tables with drawers, a microwave sitting on the one next to the refrigerator. In the corner was a low polished wooden bench, and that's where I put my things. The carpet was plush and soft, feeling nice under my bare feet, but the temperature was a little low for my taste.
"You look nice." I hadn't heard her come in behind me, and jumped as I turned around. "I get a lot of middle-aged men looking for - well, I'm sure you can guess what they're looking for." She brushed past me, leaving a faint scent of some perfume, and dragged a mat into the middle of the room, then covered it with a large beach towel. "Lie down on your stomach, and we will begin."
I laid myself face down, taking a short wriggle while I decided how to position my cock, finally taking the polite route of lying atop it. The woman straddled my upper back and pressed her fingertips into the line across my shoulders. This obviously wasn't going to be a weak tease of a massage.
She worked her hands slowly down, digging into my shoulder blades, and scooting her bottom further along down my spine. I like a firm massage myself, but this was feeling like something more, different, as if instead of applying her skills to loosen and unwind my muscles, she was placing my body into a space where it would just give up all that stress without her needing to extract it.
"Breathe!"
I must have zoned out, as she was now sitting across my ass, rocking side to side and rolling her knuckles across and around my lower back. I now regretted lying on my cock, as her rocking was making my pubic bone roll against it, bringing on a distracting erection.
She lifted her legs and swiveled a half-circle around, coming down still on my ass but facing my feet. I felt the shift of her bending atop me, and her hands wrapped around my right ankle and lifted my leg up and back, rotating my ankle and tugging my inner thigh taut. Her fingers tapped and probed from my hamstring to my calf. I didn't recognize this method at all. She muttered something like "shot" and laid that leg down to jerk the other one into the air, poking and prodding into those muscles as well.
"Is there a problem?" I didn't like what sounded like a judgmental tone in her voice.
"You know problem. Let me work." Her techniques must have been really effective, because she proceeded to arrange my body face-down and spread-eagled on the mat without my being able to resist. She squatted over the back of my head and started drumming her fingertips HARD against the back of my neck, out and in on my shoulderblades, ribcage, spine. There was a kind of rhythm to all of this, but not one I could recognize or predict. I found my breathing becoming more difficult, and the overall effect was somehow building up a pressure in my groin, as if the energy she was drumming into me was stuck there. My eyes started blurring, as well.
Suddenly she dug a fingernail into the space behind my testicles, and twisted like turning a key in a lock. Something inside me snapped - my hips thrust up into the air, and a burst of heat rolled out from my groin along all four limbs, making my fingers and toes swell and prickle and bouncing back to meet in my center then radiating outward in slowing waves. I felt - buzzy, engorged, floating, disconnected.
And then I crashed.
The world spun and raced away from me; I was crushed by a sense of loss so acute and intense that I fell into a fit of great soul-wracking sobs, unexplainable, inconsolable. I could not even form thoughts, only gasp as I writhed helpless against the dark void that pressed around me and took me eventually away.
When my eyes opened, I was lying on my side, swaddled inside something that bound my arms at my side and held my legs tightly together. I blinked a few times to clear my vision. Qui Dao (I wondered for the first time which of those was her first name) was seated cross-legged facing me.
"You're awake. Good. Wait and I'll get you something to drink."
Waiting was all that I could do; I had no energy to get out of what felt like a warm heavy cocoon. When she returned, she held a small glass of water to my lips and allowed me to take slow sips from it.
"Do you know where you are? And how do you feel?"
I had to give those questions some thought. Finally, I put the words together. "I'm in your apartment near the baseball stadium, and I feel - I feel -" I paused, confused. "I feel - emptied. But very relaxed. Very calm."
Her fingers stroked soothingly through my hair. "That's good. I suspect you have not felt that for a very long time." She continued with a trace of humor in her voice. "What else do you feel?"
I stretched, and my face must have turned scarlet as I felt the sticky wetness from my stomach to my thighs and extending back from my groin. I stammered out, "I seem to have - made a mess."
She started unrolling me from what turned out to be a thinner mat that I was wrapped in. I had to close my eyes, as the rolling made me dizzy and slightly nauseous. When she was finished, I was lying nude on my back and she went to bring back a washcloth, a shallow tub of water, and a bottle of body wash. She cleaned me efficiently, my cock not even erecting when she held it up and washed my balls. That should have bothered me, but I felt okay about it. Then she turned me over onto a clean towel and scrubbed down my backside, lightly slapping my ass when she was done. "Your ending feel happy now?"
I had to think about that while I got up and started to get dressed. "Uh, I don't know if happy is the right word. But I'm..." I tilted my head from one side to the other, and finished with "satisfied."
I pulled my wallet out and looked for the right size bills to make a tip, but she clasped my hand and pushed the wallet back at me. "I don't play the tip game. My rate is my rate. Satisfied is good enough for my tip. Sleep well tonight."
With that she headed for the front door, and when I was sure I had all my things I followed behind her. As I stepped outside, I turned back. "Say, I don't suppose-"
Her fingers shushed my lips. "Take the win, go home, and get on with your life." And she closed the door, so that's what I did.
/ END /